


Cleaning

by ConfessionForAnotherTime



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Cleaning, Gen, Guns, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfessionForAnotherTime/pseuds/ConfessionForAnotherTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Tex Appreciation Week!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleaning

She points the muzzle away from herself, aimed at the ground. She catches the ejected magazine in one hand and set it on the crate beside her. She inspects the chamber and empties it. After inspecting to ensure the gun is unloaded, she begins emptying each and every cartridge from the clip. She sets the magazine and cased bullets aside in a bowl, turning her attention back to the weapon in her hand.

“Hey Tex, we could use your help over here.” She just looks up at Tucker, back down to the pistol in her hand, and back to him. “Or you could ignore me, go back to field stripping your pistol and not lift a damn hand to help us with bringing equipment into the base. Thank Tex, good to know that you’re here to help out the team.

She doesn’t say a word and turns back to her pistol, decocking the hammer by pulling the take down tabs. She pulls toward the rear of the frame of the gun, the slide moving freely off the front. She inspects the barrel, setting each of the pieces out on the table in front of her.

She picks up the grip, grabs a rag and coats it in the cleaning solvent. Her gloved fingers glide over the stock and remove a good portion of the caked on carbon build up from the last time she cleaned it. She wants her gun to shine, to sing, to not jam. _York._ She shakes the thought from her head, wipes the inside of the magazine well, and focuses on the ejector, guide rails and everything else around the chamber. Her gloved fingers are not as deft as regular hands, but she works with what she has. Once she is satisfied, she sets the grip down, and allows the solvent to soak in, to break up the remaining grime and grit.

She gets up from her small makeshift station, heading to what the guys of blue team call the bathroom, picking up one of the toothbrushes. _Light blue. Not like he needs it._ She knew why she was here. It just didn’t matter if he didn’t just yet. She just had to keep him safe from all the horrible things that could still happen to him.

“Hey Tex, what are you doing with my toothbrush?” Church took a moment to set down the box of ammunition that he had just hauled in from the latest supply shipment, pointing at Caboose to put the box of rations in the area they called the kitchen, which really happened to be a hot plate, a pan, and some salt. The four of them, though only two of them actually ate, didn’t need much when most of their meals consisted of MREs.

“Cleaning my gun. Do you _need_ it, really? You have said on multiple occasions that you’re just a ghost in a robot body. Do robots even have teeth?” She shrugged and walked past him.

“I just don’t see why you need to use mine!” He shook his helmet in annoyance and headed out of the base before she answered, leaving her to tilt her head in what would have been a grin if she still could smile.

Tex got to work scrubbing the solvent out of the nooks and crannies of the gun, wiping down the frame, barrel, guide rod and recoil spring. She brushed over the slide, and wiped each piece down. She ensured that she used the soft piece of lint free cloth, the one that wasn’t doused in the solvent to clean it, that she saved for such an occasion. Overall, the cloth made it easier because it truly cleaned the weapon so nothing else would be in the way of the clean parts when it fired for her. She ran a circular brush through the barrel of the gun, the same brush that she kept in her tactical case when it was needed for cleanings like this one. After brushing the gun down with the solvent-free cloth again, she got ready to oil and lube the varying pieces when Caboose lumbered in with a different box. She tilted her head in confusion, but waited for him to speak first.

“Mrs. McCrabby, I just wanted you to know. Uhm, that they sent, you know, _all_ of us this game to play so since they want _all_ of us to use it, could you um, will you---?” He rung his hands a little, obviously afraid of her still despite the years of interaction.

“Caboose, are you asking me to play the game with you, Church and Tucker?” she offered for him, completing the sentence that he was having trouble asking thanks to the amount of fear over even talking with her.

“Um, yes! That would be nice. I think you are really going to like it. It is an old game, but uh, it should be simple enough that,” Caboose explains, then lowers his voice to a whisper, “that even Tucker should understand it. Since, you know, he’s a little dumb.”

“I think that would be _nice_ Caboose.” Tex suppressed a laugh when he pulled the game out of the crate and shook her head. “Really? They sent that?”

“Well, uhm, you see, everyone has a gobbly mouth that looks like a blob and they try to eat the little white things? It’s like feeding Grif!”Caboose looked far too excited as she covered her visor with her hand and shook her head.

“Caboose, I will definitely play. Church _loves_ this game so much. He will want to play it with you _all_ the time.” She left Caboose in their common room, whooping and hollering about how happy he was that he had a game to play with Church, how he was going to have so much fun and so was everyone else too because fun is what friends did.

Tex sat back down to oil her pistol, finally lubing up all the necessary parts of her gun. She began to reassemble it once she had finished, setting the rack back on the slide and pulling the trigger to ensure that the click meant it would fire properly. She returned the barrel, recoil spring, and guide rod to the frame. She assembled each piece in order and wiped down the gun of any excess oils to make it shine after her proper cleaning. Neatly, she loaded each of the bullets into the magazine one at a time and slid the clip into place, cocking the gun for when she needed it next.

“Tex, did you tell Caboose that I _liked_ playing Hungry Hungry Hippos? He’s under the impression that I will play with him anytime he asked.” She turned as Church growled out his words behind her, head peeked into the doorway. She faced him and nodded. Seems she would need the pistol sooner than she thought.


End file.
